Such a rock was Maggie's seat. I believe she considered it her
own, and loved it accordingly; although its real owner was a great lord,
who lived far away, and had never seen the moor, much less the piece of
gray rock, in his life.
The afternoon of the day which I have begun to tell you about, she was
sitting there, and singing to herself as she worked: she was within call of
home, and could hear all home sounds, with their shrillness softened down.
Between her and it, Edward was amusing himself; he often called upon her
for sympathy, which she as readily gave.
"I wonder how men make their boats steady; I have taken mine to the pond,
and she has toppled over every time I sent her in."
"Has it?--that's very tiresome! Would if do to put a little weight in it,
to keep it down?"
"How often must I tell you to call a ship 'her;' and there you will go on
saying--it--it!"
After this correction of his sister, Master Edward did not like the
condescension of acknowledging her suggestion to be a good one; so he went
silently to the house in search of the requisite ballast; but not being
able to find anything suitable, he came back to his turfy hillock, littered
round with chips of wood, and tried to insert some pebbles into his vessel;
but they stuck fast, and he was obliged to ask again.
"Supposing it was a good thing to weight her, what could I put in?"
Maggie thought a moment.
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